


Cinnamon Coffee

by throwupsparkles



Series: Grape Soda Verse [2]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst, Crossdressing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mikey Way fixes everything, Panic Attacks, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Drug Use, Physical Disability, Serious Injuries, Sexual Content, Soldier Gerard, Suicidal Thoughts Mentioned, Tattoo Artist Frank Iero
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:55:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23509516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/throwupsparkles/pseuds/throwupsparkles
Summary: “You’re still the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” Frank continues, kissing up Gerard’s shoulder, across his jaw, and hovering above his lips. “And I love you. Even if it doesn’t make sense, I love you.”
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Series: Grape Soda Verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689652
Comments: 23
Kudos: 106





	Cinnamon Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> So Grape Soda wasn't supposed to get a sequel, but here we are. I couldn't leave this world alone. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I mean no disrespect towards anyone with a physical disability or major injury. I did my research and consulted my friend who is a doctor to try and make everything as accurate as possible. I apologize for any misinformation or perceived exaggeration.

Frank’s man enough to admit that he’s been holed up in his apartment watching sad army movies and crying into bowls of macaroni. He rolled his eyes at _Dear John_ and sobbed like a little bitch at _Pearl Harbor_. He wasn’t sure what he thought he’d accomplish by watching these movies, but they made him feel a little less alone about everything. 

He tried to talk to his friends about his situation, but no one could really understand. Mostly, they all looked really sad and tried to change the subject. And Frank gets it, ok? He knows that he’s sorta being Debby Downer at every band practice, but his boyfriend is overseas so he’s allowed to be a little moody. Cut him some fucking slack.

But, mostly he tries to stay busy with work at the tattoo shop and with the band. He plays guitar with his band and thrashes around more erratically than he had before. He injures himself or someone else in the band most shows. It’s gotten to the point that they threaten to kick him out if he doesn’t cool it. 

Frank just...hasn’t been great at keeping his emotions in check. When he was a kid, his mom put him in every sport he could sign up for so he could run off his nervous energy. He hated sports though, so he picked up a guitar. And he liked how he could make sounds that reflected how he felt inside. He could pluck a few chords and hear anger or heartache. He liked that he could play fast and hard to make his fingertips bleed. Could thrash around on the stage and sweat, act like a madman out of his mind and _give in_ to his emotions for a set. 

So Frank tries to stay busy with the band and with his work. And when he’s not at work or with the band he keeps himself occupied with cheering up Mikey.

“Come on,” Frank begs, “Just come with me to the store and _hold_ a bass.”

Mikey huffs and shakes his head. “I’m just not into it.”

“Gerard thinks so.”

Mikey narrows his eyes. “That’s a cheap shot.”

“Take what I can get,” Frank says with a wink. “Come on, think about how fucking estatic he’d be if he came home and heard you play.”

“When.”

Frank furrows his brows in confusion. “What?”

Mikey looks at the floor and frowns. “You said ‘if’. ‘If he came home’.”

Frank’s eyes wided. “Oh Mikey, I didn’t--”

Mikey looks up. “When he comes home.”

And Frank just nods. “Ok, Mikey.”

*

Gerard’s letters started off pretty regular. Frank could expect a letter about every two weeks or so. Gerard never talked about what he was specifically doing all those miles away, he used the letters as just a spew of consciousness. Things like “Jesus had a foot fetish” or how horrible it was that people thought tacos were just confused sandwiches. Frank didn’t even try to respond to anything Gerard said, because the next letter would be about something completely different. Frank mostly just updated him on his life or how well Mikey was doing. He’d tell him little anecdotes from the shop or a show. He told him how he was trying to get Mikey to play the bass and that he was being such a little shit (“good luck”, Gerard had written back.) 

Sometimes Gerard sent pictures with his letters. Usually just pen or pencil sketches, but Frank hung them up on his fridge. He almost couldn’t use the handle now because there were so many pages of bats, zombies, vampires, werewolves, and frankensteins. Anything supernatural for Gerard to escape to. 

Mikey sends him comics, pop tarts, and sci-fi novels.

Frank sends him pads of paper with pens, guitar picks from each show he plays...and of course, grape soda. 

*

And then the letters stop one day. 

So Frank tries to not freak out, he’s really trying to not keep track of how many weeks it’s been since he’s gotten a letter. And he knows that it’s probably just because Gerard is fucking busy trying to not get shot at. Or they might be traveling. But Mikey isn’t helping. He keeps showing up to Frank’s apartment. Which is fine, Frank tells himself, it’s totally fine. He just needs time to decompose, but he can’t do that when Mikey is sobbing on his bathroom floor. And the saddest part of that image is that Frank isn’t sure when the last time he mopped was. 

“I need you to watch Mikey,” Gerard had said, rolling over on his side so he could look at Frank. 

Frank closed his eyes and sighed. “No, we’re not doing this.”

Gerard tugged at Frank’s arm. “No, while I’m away, he’s going to be...he’s, I’m not sure. I just need--”

“Gerard, I can’t--”

“I need you to.”

“What about me?” Frank had yelled, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. Throughout the whole thing Frank thought he had kept things together. He knew, fucking knew that going after Gerard would ruin him. He knew before before Gerard had said anything about the Army. He fucking could tell just by looking at his doe eyes and crooked mouth that he was going to break his heart. How he looked at Frank rolling the joint like he was a God. He watched his every move, eyes heavy as lead. And it grounded Frank in a way he never felt before. Gerard chased out the nerves. Settled the rampant emotions that bounced and collided in his mind. 

He had just thought that Gerard was so innocent. Had never smoked weed before. Didn’t have a piercing or tattoo. He had this cute little high voice that drawled at the end in a Jersey fashion. And he had wanted to lick it up, swallow all his words and let them crawl inside his organs and become part of him. He wanted Gerard. In every way he could. 

So he started with a kiss.

And he knew, fucking knew that Gerard would be the death of him. Solidified that feeling when he stared down at Gerard. Cheeks pink, lips raw, eyes glazed. Panting. That he would ruin him.

“Frankie,” Gerard had whispered softly, “I’m, I just, I can’t.”

“I know,” Frank had said, “I know. Mikey needs someone.”

And Gerard had just nodded guilty. “I’m sorry, he’s my--”

“Your everything,” Frank said, and not bitter. He knew that he came second to Mikey, and wouldn’t have it any other way. 

But, it was getting harder to watch over Mikey when he could hardly keep his own fears from bubbling to his lips. He would obsess over the news, keeping an eye on the casualty numbers that would flash across the screen. All the soldiers whose lives were already gone. And then he would grip Gerard’s last letter and stare at the date. 

It’s been too long.

“You would have heard,” his friend, Hambone, says one day.

Frank lights another cigarette. “How?”

Hambone sits back in his chair, ashing in the alien ashtray that Gerard had bought Frank. “My cousin was in the army. When he died, two officers came to her door to tell her.”

Frank’s blood runs cold. 

This is too real. 

This is life and death and he’s just not sure he can deal with this. 

Especially when his own phone rings.

Frank looks down to see Mikey’s name on his screen. 

Hambone ends up answering it because Frank is being a fucking coward. 

“Frank’s phone, Hambone speaking,” he says, then frowns and looks at Frank.

And Frank fucking gets up and starts pacing. “No,” he whispers, “no, no, no.” No, no. no.

“Frank,” Hambone says, getting up. He puts his hands on Frank’s shoulders to stop his pacing. “He’s not dead.”

Not dead. Ok. Frank can deal with not dead. Frank closes his eyes and sighs, “Ok.”

“He’s hurt though.”

Frank’s eyes open and he quirks and eyebrow. “What--”

“You need to go over to the Way house.”

*

So Gerard is at some hospital in Germany. Frank is sort of in this weird in between state where he’s trying to pay attention to the details, but his mind just keeps saying “he’s hurt, he’s hurt, he’s hurt” over and over that he can’t really process much else. Mikey is holding his hand and trying to talk to him without crying. He hiccups a lot and takes deep breaths when he starts talking too fast.

There was an explosion. Gerard was standing too close to a car that ran over a mine. He should be fucking dead, but he’s not. He’s in a hospital in Germany and will be ready to transfer back home any day.

“Mikey,” Frank finally says, stopping Mikey from rambling.

Mikey looks up at him and starts crying. Frank reaches out and wraps his hand around Mikey’s neck, pulling until their foreheads rest together. “He’s ok.”

Mikey sniffles and nods. “Yeah. Mom thinks this is it for him though.”

Frank nods.

“It’s bad, Frank.”

“He’s not dead.”

Mikey sighs. “Yeah, but if they’re not sending him back then it’s bad.”

Yeah. It’s bad.

Frank knows that but he’s trying not to dwell on that because Gerard is alive.

And that’s all that matters. 

*

Frank practically lives at the tattoo shop in the days he waits for Gerard to get home. He overbooks himself so that all he can think about are stencils, ink, and flesh. He forgets the names of everyone he gets in his chair and their faces start to blur together. A couple times he has to excuse himself to the restroom where he leans against the door and tries to count his heartbeats to make sure he’s not dying. His hands shake and his chest feels like it’s caving in.

At night, he sticks around and sanitizes everything three different times, trying to not think of the last night Gerard was here. Tries not to think about how Gerard shook under him. How his swollen lips were begging and rambling. 

“Frankie,” he had pleaded. 

Frank’s hands only gripped Gerard’s hips harder, keeping the pace that was driving Gerard insane. He loved bringing him to this edge, keeping him there until he was nothing but choked out pleas and shaking limbs. 

Gerard’s head arched back, eyes rolling back. “Baby, I c-can’t…”

“You can,” Frank had challenged against his neck, licking a filthy line up to his jaw. He bit down and smirked at the moan that echoed throughout the shop. 

“Frank.”

Frank blinks and looks up to see Mikey.

“He just got out of surgery,” he says softly, “We can…”

“I’ll drive,” Frank says quickly, wondering how Mikey even got himself here with how shaky his hands are. 

He puts his hand on the small of Mikey’s back and leads him to the car, opening his door and coaxing him in the passenger seat. He looks like he’s about to break down. Frank gets in and starts driving to the hospital, trying to keep his mind blank for Mikey. 

_I need you to watch Mikey_. 

The last time he was at the hospital was when some distant relative was sick. He was only a kid, but he remembers his mom crying while they were driving to the hospital. She had pulled up to the parking lot and fixed her makeup in the rearview mirror. 

“Now, listen,” she had said, “We have to be strong for your Aunt. No tears.”

Frank had nodded, wondering if she was saying this mostly for herself as she dabbed on more lipstick. 

“We have to be the backbone for them. They’re not going to be strong enough to handle this. We don’t want to burden them. Ok?”

So when Frank pulls up to the hospital he takes a deep breath and looks in the rearview mirror. No tears.

He looks over to Mikey and reaches out to take his hand. He squeezes tight and feels Mikey squeeze back. “He’s alive, Mikey Way. That’s all that matters, ok?”

Mikey nods. “He’s alive.”

“They wouldn’t have moved him here if it was life threatening.”

Mikey nods again, robotic. Just reacting to Frank’s words. 

“Ok, bud, let’s go,” Frank says gently. 

Mikey won’t let go of Frank’s hand as they walk inside. He tightens his grip as Frank asks the information desk where they’d find Gerard’s room. Frank’s breath catches when she tells him he’s still in the ICU.

Frank turns and gives Mikey a reassuring smile. “Come on.”

Frank focuses on Mikey’s hand in his more than the stark walls he follows until he reaches the ICU. Mikey’s parents are already there and they reach for Mikey. Frank stands awkwardly to the side. “Um, does anyone want a coffee?”

Mikey smiles weakly at Frank and nods. Frank exhales and sets back off.

He’s not ready to see Gerard yet. Not like this.

He had imagined getting one of those corny scenes in the airport where he would open his arms and Gerard would come running to him. Frank would lift him and they’d spin and kiss and everyone would stop and feel so happy for them. 

Instead he’s getting coffee out of a vending machine in the middle of a hospital ward. His hands shake around the cup and he can’t even feel the burn of the hot coffee on his hand. He rests his head against the machine and sighs. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Which is kind of a stupid thing to think because if the movies he spent months watching taught him anything, it was that horrible shit like this always happened. 

He takes a sip of his coffee and winces. Gerard would hate this shit. He thinks about the cinnamon coffee creamer he still has in the fridge from Gerard. He would dump enough into his mug to turn it almost milk then would stir in two heaping spoonfuls of sugar.

“Is it even still coffee at that point?” Frank had asked the first time he saw Gerard’s coffee routine. He had just grinned and took a sip, humming in pleasure. Frank had kissed his warm sugary lips and found that he started craving cinnamon in his coffee now too. 

When Frank returns with coffee for himself and Mikey, Mikey is shuffling and staring at his feet.

He hands Mikey the coffee, “What is it?”

“The doctor came by,”Mikey releases a shuddering breath. “He’s awake, but he wants you first.”

Frank’s hands tighten on his coffee, the styrofoam protesting in warning. “Why?”

Mikey wipes his face. “He…”

“He’s upset about the procedure,” Mrs. Way says.

“Procedure?”

“He lost his arm,” Mikey croaks. 

*

Frank paces outside of Gerard’s room, sipping his coffee that he could probably do without because it feels like his heart is going to explode anyway. 

Frank was never good around sick people or death. When his grandma had gotten sick and was in a nursing home, Frank couldn’t be near her. He wasn’t sure if it was that he was scared of death or what. It was just this fear, like they were breakable? That if Frank got too close he would shatter their fragile bones and he’d be the reason they fell apart. 

He can’t shatter Gerard.

“Are you coming in?” He hears Gerard say. His voice seems off, hoarse and distant, but it still makes him stop cold.

Fuck. That’s him in there. He’s really there.

Frank steps in and drops his coffee, feels the splash of it’s contents go up his ankles and drench his socks. 

Gerard’s bleached hair is gone, it’s shaved down to his scalp. A bandage covers half the top of his head, scooping down to cover his right temple as well. He has a butterfly bandage on his right cheekbone, and his skin on his right side looks red and irritated. His eyes are dazed, dark bags pull under them and his lips are cracked. 

But, fuck, he’s so beautiful.

And Frank can’t move at first, he’s just overcome with emotion. All the emotion that he’s been bottling up for Mikey. And it’s been hell. Fucking hell for someone like Frank when all he does is _feel_. But he couldn’t indulge in his fear, sadness, and longing. He pushes the emotion back down. He has to be the backbone. 

“Frankie.”

And Frank is moving.

He trips over his feet and comes to the side of Gerard’s bed, minding his IVs and leans over to brush his lips across his forehead. Feels his skin against his lips. It’s almost too much. He hasn’t. Fuck, he’s been _dreaming_ about this. 

“Frankie,” Gerard’s voice breaks. 

Frank cups his face in his shaking hands and brings their foreheads together. “Shh,” he soothes, “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

Gerard reaches up.

With his one arm.

Wraps in around Frank and buries his face in Frank’s neck and sobs. Heart wrenching sobs that break whatever resolve Frank has left and he loses it too. He knows that he’s supposed to be strong for Gerard right now. The fucker just lost a fucking _arm_ , but he can’t. He can’t because this is Gerard and he hasn’t held him in almost a year. And their bodies just shake from pain, the kind of pain that Frank has never felt before because it’s a combination of both of their agony. He feels all of Gerard’s fear from the past ten months, all of his loneliness in the desert, his longing for Frank, his cries for Mikey, his dread of each night and shaky appreciation for each morning he wakes up alive. 

He’s alive.

And they’re both celebrating and mourning. 

*

Frank sits at the end of Gerard’s bed, his feet in Frank’s hands. Frank squeezes and caresses as Mikey and Gerard talk in silent tones. Mikey cried for a long time, his head on Gerard’s stomach as Gerard stroked his hair. Frank understands why he wanted him before Mikey. He needed to break down before Mikey saw him like this. He had to get back into big-brother-mode before his little brother came to see how broken he was. 

Gerard had helped load up the truck that was delivering supplies to another base. He had tapped the bumper and the truck pulled away and “I just felt the heat,” Gerard whispers, “I didn’t really, couldn’t really feel anything else but how fucking hot it was. It felt like my skin was melting, and I guess it did. There were chunks of the car melted into my arm.”

“Like Winter Soldier?” Mikey sniffles.

Gerard giggles a little, and Frank’s heart pulls at the sound. Gerard just looks so small in the hospital bed. And he’s lost more weight, his cheekbones are more pronounced. He looks more boney, especially with his head shaved. 

“Yeah, Mikes,” he says softly, “Only I didn’t get to keep it.”

Mikey frowns. “Well Bucky’s arm was detachable.”

Gerard giggles again. “Fuck, I missed you.”

Gerard had been taken to the hospital in Germany. Apparently it was the overseas military hospital that U.S. soldiers were sent to. They had removed the pieces of metal from Gerard’s burnt arm and were just going to do a skin graft for the burns. They had patched him up for the transport, but by the time he had gotten back home, his arm had developed gangrene. 

“I didn’t even know any of that had happened,” Gerard says, “I just woke up here without my arm.”

Frank squeezes the foot he’s holding. Gerard looks up at him and holds his gaze. Frank can tell he’s trying not to cry. Frank leans down and bites his big toe gently through his hospital socks.

“Ew,” Gerard says, giggling a bit to hide his tearful voice, he sniffles, “You’re so weird.”

Frank looks up at him and smiles gently. “You love it.”

Gerard puts his left hand to his chest, over his heart where the tattoo rests. “I do.”

*

The next two weeks are tough. Frank basically fucks off his clients and the shop understands because again, his army boyfriend just lost his fucking arm. As far as excuses go, it’s a pretty good one. The guys in the band are more than accommodating and tell him that they don’t have any shows lined up anyway. Take all the time he needs.

Frank sits with Gerard as psychologists come to talk to him about his grief over his missing arm, but Gerard doesn’t really seem to be invested in the conversations. Frank holds his left hand and strokes his palm, trying to keep him calm.

He only cries a few times when he talks about his arm.

“How am I going to draw?”

“You’ll learn to do things with your left hand,” the occupational therapist had said. 

And Gerard just leaned into Frank and cried. 

Gerard was able to go home after the fourteen day mark, and it wasn’t as dramatic as Frank thought it would have been. He’s prepared for the tears as Gerard walks into his basement for the first time after ten months. But, Gerard just sighs and flops back on his bed. “I’m never leaving this bed.”

Frank laughs and lays on the bed next to him. 

Gerard turns and looks at him, a bit shyly. “Hi.”

Frank grins at him wickedly and rolls over on top of him, careful to keep most of his weight off him. He leans down and captures his lips in his. He hasn’t kissed him besides comforting brushes of lips and gentles presses to his cheeks and temples. Gentle tip of the nose kisses. The kisses that make Gerard smile up at him like Frank has fixed everything. But he knows that Gerard needs him to really kiss him. Needs this. Frank needs this.

He licks Gerard’s mouth open and their tongues reacquaint. Frank tastes the inside of his mouth, captures Gerard’s sighs. Gerard bites at Frank’s lips, licks at the irritated skin before sucking on it. Frank groans and grips his chin, kissing him harshly. Almost punishing him. For leaving him. Frank just didn’t realize he had that anger in him. But Gerard pushes his hips up, wraps his leg around Frank’s thigh and pulls him down. Frank lets out a, “Fuck,” and falls to his elbows. 

“Missed you,” Gerard breathes.

Frank palms at Gerard’s jeans. “Yeah I can tell.”

Gerard laughs breathy then moans when Frank’s hand becomes more earnest. 

“Please,” Gerard whimpers and fuck, Frank can’t really say no to that. Not that he would want to. His hands make quick work of the buckle of Geard’s jeans and then he sits up and gets off the bed. 

“Where are you--”

Frank interrupts him by pulling his jeans off by the pant legs, successfully pulling Gerard down the bed as well. He grins at Gerard’s eager expression and sinks down to his knees. 

“Oh, fuck,” Gerard groans, dropping his head back on the bed. 

Frank mouths at Gerard’s hips, licking and biting down, making Gerard more delirious with want. 

“Frankie, please.”

Frank grins against his skin before biting back down. Gerard bucks his hips and huffs.

“Something you want, baby?”

“It’s not nice to tease,” Gerard breathes.

Frank loses himself in the taste of Gerard. Let’s his mind go silent and just focus on the feeling of Gerard in his mouth, against his tongue, down his throat. He closes his eyes and zeros in on the breathy moans filling the room, the grip of Gerard’s hand in his hair, the smell of his skin getting muskier. 

It doesn’t take long for Gerard to shout out, thighs in Frank’s hands to quiver, and Frank's mouth to flood. 

Frank rests his head on Gerard’s hip and looks up at Gerard who has the biggest grin on his face. Frank chuckles. “Good?”

Gerard holds up his arm, giving Frank a thumbs up.

“You’re such a romantic,” Frank laughs softly. 

*

Frank starts to think that they got pretty lucky, that Gerard is adjusting well. 

Until Gerard sits up one night and just starts screaming. 

Frank jumps up and turns on the light. After searching the room for the threat, he realizes that it’s just in Gerard’s mind. He frames Gerard’s tear streaked face in his shaking hands, “Gerard, you’re ok. You’re safe.”

Mikey comes running down the steps, eyes wild.

“What’s going on?”

“You’re brother had a nightmare,” Frank says, “It’s ok, Mikey.”

Gerard sags against Frank’s body, whimpering. 

“He doesn’t sound ok,” he points out, coming to sit on the bed as well. Mikey scoots next to Frank holding Gerard and rubs his back while Frank kisses his temple. “Shh, shh,” he whispers, rocking them gently, “You’re safe now.”

*

Frank realizes that things moved way too quickly with him and Gerard. But, Frank’s always been out of control with his emotions. He’s never thought about slowing down and analyzing how he’s actually feeling, he just does. He knew that falling for Gerard would be a mess. He knew tattooing that he loved Gerard onto his skin was a bold fucking mood, but it didn’t stop him did it?

It’s just now things have come to a deafening hault. After a month of whirlwind emotions, where they didn’t have time to dissect who they were individually and how that would work as a couple, things felt infinite. And Frank wasn’t sure how he felt about all that time. 

It’s not that he’s afraid Gerard would just up and leave him, but now he has the time to nitpick at Frank’s negative qualities. Like how he always loses the cap to the toothpaste tubes. Or how he gets a new cup of water every night without bringing in the cup he used the previous night into the kitchen, so now every fucking cup that’s in Frank’s apartment has found a new home on his nightstand.

Or worse, Gerard can see how unhinged he is all the time. 

A couple of times, Gerard smiles at his nervous energy and sets his hand down on Frank’s bouncing knee. Or kisses him to silence Frank when he keeps babbling about something that happened at work, falling into a bunch of different backstories that he forgets what the original story was. Mostly though he knows that when Frank is in a frenzy, it’s time for him to get on a stage. 

Gerard is hesitant to come out to a show at first. After Gerard had gotten settled into a somewhat routine, Frank went back to work and the guys started booking shows again. At first it had hurt Frank’s feelings that Gerard didn’t come out to see them play, but then he realized that Gerard was just self conscious. 

So, the next time Frank is booked for a show, he drives to the Way house and crosses his arms when Gerard starts to protest. 

Gerard sighs. “I just don’t feel like myself, Frankie.”

Frank smiles at him gently. “Be someone else then.”

And Gerard knew what he meant. When Gerard had first explained it, he said that he was still Gerard, just wearing a dress. And it was the truth. But there was another deeper meaning. Gerard dressed up when he needed a bit something extra. He said that it made him feel stronger, sassier, just a more exaggerated version of himself.

Frank lounges on Gerard’s bed, flipping through a comic book as Gerard slips into a red and white plaid dress. He puts Frank’s denim jacket on over it though, still not totally comfortable going sleeveless yet. He takes his time piling glitter onto his eyelids. Frank grins at how Gerard’s cheeks flush and his eyes look brighter than they had since he had gotten home. Frank watches him color his lips red, left hand shaking a bit.

“Fuck,” Gerard huffs.

Frank gets up and takes the tube of lipstick from him. “Let me,” he whispers.

Gerard looks up at him through his fake lashes and nods. Frank squats down and uses his thumb to wipe away the messy swipes that went outside Gerard’s lip line. Then, he gently dabs and swipes the color. “There,” he says softly when he finishes.

Gerard looks down at his bare knees. “It’s frustrating.”

“What is?”

“Not being able to do things on my own,” Gerard huffs, reaching up to swipe at his eyes.

Frank places his hands on Gerard’s knees and stares at his quivering lip. “It just takes time. You’ve, fuck, you’ve been through a lot. No one expects you to just go back to how things were,” he says gently. 

“I can’t draw,” Gerard says sadly, “Frankie, I can’t make anything anymore.”

Frank hugs Gerard’s calves and lays his head in his lap. Because, fuck, he doesn’t know what to say to that. He knows that drawing to Gerard is like playing guitar for Frank. It was his escape from that darkness in Gerard’s mind. The darkness that’s been starting to leak out more than it had before. Frank see’s it in his eyes sometimes when they’re just laying in bed. Frank sees the despair, the craving for destruction. Frank gets it. But then again he doesn’t. 

Mikey had told him some things. Told him about the drugs and alcohol. Told him about the depression. The suicidal thoughts. 

Frank had sat on the kitchen floor with Mikey one night when Gerard was asleep. Frank couldn’t, he never could really get back to sleep after calming Gerard’s screams. He went up the steps to get a cup of water and the weight of everything just sent him to the floor. He pressed his hands to his face and swallowed a sob. He couldn’t break. Not here.

He had to be strong for Gerard and Mikey. _They_ were the ones who were hurting and if Frank broke too, then who would take care of them? He couldn’t be selfish here. He had to push his bubbling, acidic emotions down, down, down until they corroded and became something else. 

And that’s how Mikey found him. Kneeled on the floor with his face covered. 

“Frank?”

Frank dropped his hands and looked up at Mikey, like he was the kid who needed to be taken care of. Mikey sat down next to Frank and looked at him like he’d seen him look at Gerard sometimes. And it sort of warmed his heart to think that he earned that protective glance that Mikey usually only reserved for Gerard. 

“Hey,” Mikey said gently, reaching out to put his hand on Frank’s shoulder. 

Frank shifted so he was leaning against the cabinets as well. “Hey.”

“It’s hard seeing him like that,” Mikey said gently, “It never gets easier.” Mikey picked at his pink pajama pants then kind of laughs, “I thought that we had gotten through the worse. But, it’s fucking Gerard. It’s like he attracts horror.”

Frank nodded even though he really didn’t have any idea. 

“I’ve lost count how many times I thought I lost him,” Mikey whispered, haunted. “He used to call me when he was out of his mind on drugs at school. He would babble about some really fucked up shit.”

Frank reached out and took Mikey’s hand. 

“Like, there was this period of time where he was obsessed with Joan of Arc. There was one phone call where he wouldn’t say anything except, ‘sometimes I see the flames’,” Mikey shuddered and squeezed Frank’s hand, “It got to be too much. He was calling me almost every night at one point, that I just drove up to his university. His fucking dorm was coated in a collage of death. He had pictures of cancer patients, drawings of Joan of Arc on fire, bombings, it was...it was really fucked up. And he was just sitting on the floor staring at it when I came in. He was fucked up on a cocktail of drugs and booze. Getting him clean was the worst.”

Frank remembers how his hand grew slick in Mikey’s hand with sweat. He hadn’t wanted to hear anymore, but his mouth wouldn’t move to tell him to stop. It was just frozen in shock. 

“I didn’t think he’d survive it,” Mikey said quietly, “He was so pale and sweaty. He wouldn’t stop throwing up. I didn’t think he looked like death, Frank. I just, I thought that was the worst that I’d see him”--he let out a shaky breath-- “Somehow, this is worse.”

Gerard runs his hands through Frank’s hair, pulling him from the memory. “Where’d you go?” He whispers.

Frank lifts his head and kisses Gerard’s red lips. “I’m here.”

*

So they get into a routine. 

Frank goes to work at the tattoo shop, and sometimes Mikey will drive Gerard up there when Frank has to work late. He’ll sit in the tattoo chair with a smirk on his lips, no doubt remembering the last time he sat there. 

After work, if it wasn’t too late, they’d go to the comic book store to fuck around and sometimes play Dungeons and Dragons with the regulars. Gerard gets caught up everytime they play and Frank has to press his lips together to keep from laughing at how Gerard creates outrageous voices for all the characters. Of course, Gerard is the Dungeon Master. And the fucker totally did not take it easy on Frank’s first time, he just let Frank put his character in shitty situations then laughed at Frank’s pathetic D20 rolls. 

“You’re getting too much pleasure from this,” he said one night after his character unleashed a mimic. 

Gerard leaned over and kissed his cheek, whispering in his ear, “I totally fibbed on of the mimic’s rolls. You should be dead right now.”

Frank blushed. “How generous.”

Frank likes hanging out at the comic book store with Gerard, likes the guys they play DnD with. Doug, Alex, Geoff, and Dennis. They never asked Gerard for war stories, they didn’t stare at the nub where his arm used to be, and they didn’t bat an eye when Gerard showed up in a dress sometimes.

Most nights, they go back to Frank’s apartment. Gerard started asking to stay at his place after Mikey started sleeping through his alarm for school because Gerard was keeping him up with his nightmares. 

And so, Frank will drive Gerard to his apartment after work or DnD and they’ll eat something out of the freezer or grab takeout. Gerard eating with his left hand was hard to watch the first few weeks. He would get so frustrated, his cheeks pink and tears in his eyes. 

At first, Frank just took the fork from Gerard’s trembling hands and fed him. It sorta made Gerard more embarrassed at first, he kept looking at Mikey or whoever was at the table with him. So, Frank turned Gerard’s chair so that he was facing away from the table. Then he picked up Gerard’s plate and sat in front of him. “Just pay attention to me,” he had murmured.

And they did that for a bit, but then Gerard shook his head whenever Frank would reach for his fork. “I need to learn to do it.”

Gerard eats like he’s been left handed all his life now, except when they have rice. It always falls off his fork, so Frank makes sure to order noodles when they get Chinese from now on. 

“Let’s get pizza,” Gerard says one night, “I’m feeling chaotic and want pineapple.”

Frank grins. “Of course.”

He dials the pizza joint they love and watches Gerard disappear into his bathroom to change. That’s one thing that still hasn’t improved. Gerard refuses to let Frank see him without his layers of long sleeves and jackets. Frank knows it’s a dick move to be annoyed about it, but he can’t help it. He thought that after months without being near each other...Gerard would want that sort of intimacy again. Or, at least he’d trust Frank enough to be around him. When Gerard came home, he had Mikey help him change and take baths. Something Frank thought he’d end up doing. And he knows, he fucking knows ok? He’s being stupid and this is not about him. But it sorta feels like it.

Which is why it confuses him when Gerard walks out with just pajama pants on. 

Frank barely hears the pizza guy on the phone asking for his order. He just stares at Gerard’s chest, still pale even though he’s spent ten months in the fucking desert. He traces the definition in his muscles, more pronounced than what he remembers. And of course, his eyes fall onto the tattoo. 

_I love you._

Frank hangs up and tosses his phone on the table. 

“The pizza!” Gerard protests, “Fr-”

But whatever he was about to say gets lost in Frank’s mouth. He pushes Gerard against the wall of the kitchen and just, well attacks him. His lips bruise Gerard’s, he can’t stop the frenzy that’s radiating from his body. And Gerard gets it, he’s kissing back just as hard. Frank is going mad with the feel of Gerard sucking the breath out of him and the wet sound of their mouths colliding.

Frank hooks his hands under Gerard’s knees and lifts him up. Gerard yelps in surprise, wrapping his arm around Frank’s neck. “I’ve got you,” Frank murmurs against his ear, before licking the curve of it. Gerard sags in his hold and lets out a strangled sigh. 

Frank carries Gerard to his bedroom, lays him out on the dark sheets. He smiles how beautiful Gerard’s skin glows against the dark backdrop. He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to his tattoo and Gerard reaches up to run his fingers through Frank’s hair, possessively. Frank rolls his face up, digging his chin into Gerard’s flesh. “I’m not going anywhere,” Frank says, proud at how steady his voice is when there’s so much emotion dripping from the words. 

He’s a bit surprised at how wide Gerard’s eyes get, like he thought he was hiding it so well. Frank knew, he fucking knew because it was the same irrational fear he had. Only, he knew Gerard must have been dialing it up to ten because of his injury. Frank leans up and kisses the spot where his arm now ends. “You’re still whole to me.”

“Frankie,” Gerard’s voice breaks. 

“You’re still the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” Frank continues, kissing up Gerard’s shoulder, across his jaw, and hovering above his lips. “And I love you. Even if it doesn’t make sense, I love you.”

Gerard reaches up and pulls Frank down so he can kiss him. It’s slow, and gentle. Like Gerard is taking the time he’s missed tasting his mouth. Memorizing the way his lip ring digs against his soft flesh. He smiles softly against Frank’s mouth, hand moving down to tug at Frank’s shirt. Frank grins and sits up, pulling it up and over his head.

“Lose the pants too,” Gerard orders softly.

Frank smiles and his heart aches, this is what he’s been missing. Frank comes back to him and removes the rest of Gerard’s clothing, pressing reassuring kisses into the newly revealed skin. When he drops the clothes on the floor, he sits back on his knees and takes Gerard in. His breath catches in his throat when he notes all the scars that he hasn’t been able to take catalogue of yet. He wants to ask about some of them. The long silvery line along his right knee, the star shaped scars peppered along his lower abdomen, the short lines on his left shoulder. But, he leans down and licks the tattoo instead. The only mark that Frank knows the story of. 

His favorite story. 

Gerard pulls Frank back up to him, “Need you,” he whispers, biting his bottom lip. Frank pulls away and grins at Gerard’s whimper, before reaching into the nightstand draw that he hasn’t needed in months. Gerard seems to get with the program and reaches for Frank.

Frank mouths at Gerard’s neck though it, feeling the vibrations of his moans against his lips. He loves how responsive Gerard is. So _into_ sex, you know? Some of his past hookups felt like he was just using their bodies to get off, and vice versa. He never could get hung up on just their _sound_ . Most of the time, he never even kept his eyes open. But not with Gerard, watching him, touching him, tasting him, _hearing_ him was all part of making love to him. Gerard’s pleasure is just as mesmerizing as his own, if not more. He craves pulling those noises out of him. He strives to get his stomach to tighten when he pushes just _there_. 

He loves how mouthy Gerard gets when he’s working him up, how he begs and babbles until Frank finally pushes in and then, Gerard’s body arches and his mouth opens to silence. Emotion, pleasure robbing him of his voice.

He watches Gerard’s face fall into ecstasy, eyes closed, lips parted and cheeks flushed. 

“Look at me,” Frank requests gently, and Gerard always opens his eyes. He thinks that sometimes it’s too much for Gerard to handle. The sensations overcome him and he just can’t take anymore. Frank always likes to push him. And it makes Frank grin because when Gerard’s eyes open, he almost never lasts much longer. 

Frank reaches down to help him get there faster but Gerard breathes, “No.”

Frank drops his hand away and stills, searching Gerard’s face for any traces of pain or…

“No,” Gerard whispers, reaching up to brush hair out Frank’s eyes, “I need this to last. Take a long time...I just…”

But Frank gets it and slowly snaps his hips and Gerard sighs. “Yeah, just like that.”

Frank gathers him in his arms and rains gentle kisses over his cheeks, catching his tears in his mouth. Tasting love.

Tasting salvation.

*

“Tell me about this one,” Frank says, feeding Gerard a stray pineapple. 

Gerard grins and sucks on Frank’s fingers after taking the fruit. “Which one?”

Frank taps the stars on his stomach, “This.”

Gerard sighs, “Shotgun.” 

Frank frowns and takes another bite of pizza. 

“Quit asking if the answers bother you,” Gerard whispers.

Frank lays his head down on his chest. “I don’t like not knowing parts of your body.”

He hears the soft rumble of laughter in his chest. 

“What?”

“You just have this way of surprising me every time you open your mouth.”

Gerard rolls them over so he can trace the yellow-purple marks over his shoulder. “When did this happen?”

So Frank’s not been dealing as well as he’s been projecting. There’s something inside him that needs to be violent sometimes. And he’s been feeding it all this fear and worry that’s been circling around Gerard. He’s been pushing anything that isn’t helping Gerard down to the demons deep in his mind. 

Sometimes they spite back up and Frank battles them. 

“Caulties,” Frank whispers.

Gerard’s eyebrow quirks up, so Frank grins, “From shows.”

Gerard nods like he knows.

But he has no idea. 

*

Gerard hadn’t stopped screaming.

“Baby, baby,” Frank cooed, holding Gerard in his arms and rocking, “shh.”

But it wasn’t nightmares this time. Gerard had been wide awake, watching Cartoon Network with Frank when all of a sudden he bowed over and started screaming. 

“It hurts,” Gerard whimpered. 

Frank laid him back on the couch, eyes darting over his body for a wound. How had he hurt himself? They were just sitting here. 

“My arm,” Gerard bit out.

Frank lifted his arm and inspected it, “I don’t see--”

“No, my other arm.”

Apparently there’s this phenomena called phantom limb pain. Frank had taken Gerard to the ER because he didn’t know what else to do. He didn’t know if there was something wrong with what was left of his arm. Maybe the infection that caused him to lose the arm had spread? Frank isn’t a fucking doctor and he freaked out, ok?

The doctor had said that Gerard could take some medication, he had mentioned codeine and Gerard shook his head quickly. Frank didn’t know why Gerard had been so adamant about stopping his pain killers so quickly after the surgery; but after Mikey’s conversation, everything was starting to make sense. The doctor took note of his quick response and suggested Tylenol.

Gerard nodded hesitantly and sighed. “Is there nothing else?”

“I’d suggest looking into some therapy methods.”

And that’s how Frank ended up sitting on his bed with Gerard and a mirror. 

“Is it working?” Frank asks.

Gerard wrinkles his nose. “I’m not sure you’re doing it right.”

Frank adjusts the mirror. Gerard is sitting up against the headboard, holding out his left arm. Frank holds the mirror opposite of his left outreached arm, pressing the edge of it against his right shoulder. From Gerard’s view it looks like his right arm is back. 

Mikey sits at the end of the bed. “Wiggle your fingers like the doctor said.”

Gerard does, and his eyes get wide. 

“What’s it feel like?” Frank asks.

“It’s like my arm is back,” Gerard breathes. 

“Really?” Mikey asks, eyebrows high. 

“Well,” Gerard modifies, “I _know_ that it’s not, but it feels like it is.” 

“It’s supposed to quiet the mind,” Frank says, remembering what the doctor told him, “Clench you hand in a fist.”

Gerard does. 

“The movement is supposed to keep your mind on that, not on the phantom pain,” Frank continues, “Now release your first.”

He does and sighs. 

*

Frank knew that shit would hit the fan soon. But he still had the audacity to be shocked.

“Can you not do that right now?” Gerard grits out. 

Frank’s hands still on his guitar and he glares at Gerard who is sitting at his kitchen table. He’s been moping over pads of paper and pens. He’ll start on something, then huff and crumble it. There’s balls of paper all around the legs of his chair. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know the music was bothering you.”

Gerard rolls his eyes. “You’re just making noise.”

Frank huffs and sets his guitar down. “Don’t take your frustration out on me. I’m sorry that it’s not coming to you as easily as you would like, but you’ll be able to draw the way you want to again. It takes time.”

“Yeah? And how do you think it makes me feel to sit in the same room as you right now? With you holding the guitar with both your fucking hands.”

Frank takes a deep breath and remembers what the therapists had told him all those weeks in the hospital. This was going to be hard for him, probably the hardest thing he’ll ever have to do. It’s normal for him to lash out. But fuck, Frank is tired of being the punching bag. 

“I’m allowed to still have hobbies,” Frank bites out, “Contrary to what you seem to think, my life does not revolve around you and your injury.”

He regrets the words as soon as they’re out his mouth. 

Gerard gets up and pulls out his phone. “I think I’ll call Mikey to come get me,” he whispers, walking out the door and slamming it.

Frank contemplates getting up to follow him out, but he can’t get his legs to move. He feels so drained and heavy. He’s been keeping everything bottled up, all his anger and sadness and confusion. He never asked for this. He didn’t ask to fall in love with this beautiful man who got shipped off a month later. He wasn’t prepared for the months of loneliness only to get Gerard back broken and tattered. He hadn’t planned on having to piece back a human being when he kissed Gerard in that basement all those months ago. Fuck. _Months_. This was too fast. He was in too deep.

And his chest is heaving because he didn’t think this was where his life was going last year. He had just gotten his apprenticeship at the tattoo shop and was just going to keep his head down. Ink up as many people as he could and play music in his band. 

He hears a car stop, the door open and shut. Then, drive off. 

Frank sighs and knows he missed his opportunity to go after Gerard like every sappy movie he’s watched has taught him to do. What they didn’t prepare him for was an angry brother to drive back to his apartment. 

Mikey storms into his living room. “What the fuck.” Not a question. 

Frank looks at the floor. Angry Mikey Way is fucking scary. 

“Frank.”

Frank looks up, ashamed, guilty, angry...valid.

Mikey is looking at him like he wants to hit him, his fist is balled at his thigh, but his eyes soften at whatever he sees in Frank’s eyes. “Oh, Frank,” he whispers. 

Frank puts his hand over his eyes so Mikey can’t see the emotions he’s been trying to drown. He presses his fingers into his eye sockets like he can push the tears back with his fingertips. He feels Mikey’s hand on his shoulder. “I know. Trust me, I fucking know.”

Frank shakes his head. Yeah, Mikey knows what it’s like to love Gerard. But he doesn’t know what Frank has been holding up. He doesn’t know what Frank has been chasing in his mind. He doesn’t know that Frank’s had to hide in the bathroom at work because of the panic attacks. He doesn't know that Frank has purposely slammed himself into the walls at shows so he wakes up with bruises all over his body, just so he can feel something other than the worry for Gerard.

Or the love. Being in love is violent. It tangles his legs while he’s sleeping. It makes his heart race, so fast he thinks he’s going to die. His chest hurts. His brain hurts. Lips chapped and rubbed raw from too much use. Skin oversensitive. His breath isn’t his anymore. He is constantly being grabbed at, touched, devoured.

And loved. 

“Frank.”

Mikey pulls at Frank’s hand and then Frank is in Mikey’s bony arms. Frank presses his face into the curve of his neck and lets go. 

Finally.

He sobs and sobs. And Mikey just rocks them from side to side, rubbing his back. “I know,” he whispers.

Frank doesn’t recognize the sounds coming from his body. He can’t remember the last time that he cried like this. He doesn’t know if he’s ever cried like this. Can’t remember if he’s ever felt this broken. 

He knew Gerard would destroy him. 

He just didn’t expect it to hurt this much.

*

Gerard comes back the next morning. 

Frank is making coffee when Gerard lets himself in with the key that Frank gave the Way brothers. Frank switches the coffee maker on and they listen to the gurgling sounds before Gerard whispers, “I’m sorry.”

Frank sets out two mugs. “Me too.”

Gerard shakes his head. “No, I’ve been awful to you--”

“--you’ve had a lot to--”

“So have you--”

“--been too selfish--”

“--taking care of my brother,” Gerard says firmly. “You’ve been taking care of me and my brother.” Gerard sits at the kitchen table and lights a cigarette. He’s still wearing his clothes from yesterday, one of Frank’s Bouncing Souls shirts and a pair of Scooby-Doo pajama pants. His fingernail polish is chipped and Frank wonders how long he’ll let it go before he repaints it. He watches the splotchy red nail bring the cigarette back up to his mouth. “You haven’t been taking care of yourself.”

Frank lights himself a cigarette and sits up on the kitchen counter next to the coffee maker. 

“I’ve been occupied,” he says tightly.

Gerard frowns and stares at the alien ash tray like it holds the answers they need. “It wasn’t fair of me,” he says slowly, like he’s considering each word, “to ask you to look after Mikey.”

“Gerard--”

“--No, let me finish,” he pleads. He takes a deep breath then, “It’s always just been me and Mikey. We never had anyone else. We didn’t let anyone else in, and I think when you came into our lives, I latched on for the both of us. I knew that you wouldn’t let anything happen to Mikey, but I shouldn’t have put that on you. It wasn’t up to you to make sure Mikey didn’t fall apart while I was away. That’s on me.”

“I love that kid like a brother,” Frank insists.

Gerard looks at him with warm eyes. “I know you do, Frankie, and I love you for that. But, you let him be your main concern. You didn’t have anyone to take care of you. Trust me, I’ve seen Mikey do the same with me. And, I’m fucking sorry I didn’t notice it sooner.”

Frank looks down at his feet, feeling his eyes grow hot. He feels like all he’s done is cry. Mikey had stayed with Frank all night. He turned on the tv and kept it on mute while Frank showed him all his demons under the changing lights of the screen. 

“You don’t know the signs yet,” Frank says softly, looking back up and Gerard’s face falls. Because yeah, he fucking loves him and Frank knows that. But he doesn’t love all of him yet, and that’s the difference. They’re just now seeing each other at their worst. 

“I want to learn them,” Gerard whispers, eyes holding his gaze. “I’m not, this isn’t scaring me off.”

Frank’s mouth threatens to curl upward. He rubs his mouth and sighs. “So, I do this thing where I bottle everything up until I explode.”

Gerard snorts. “Oh yeah?”

Frank grins and nods. “Yeah,” then more seriously, “I keep it in until I have panic attacks or yell at my boyfriend.”

Gerard sighs, “You can’t do that anymore. Not with me.”

Frank nods. “Yeah, Mikey told me that already.”

Gerard grins and takes a drag. 

They listen to the drips of the coffee for a few moments. 

“I didn’t mean it,” Gerard says sheepishly, “About you playing the guitar when I can’t draw anymore.”

Frank sighs and leans against the cabinets. “You did. But it’s ok, I understand. I think I would be pretty bummed out too if I was in your shoes. I won’t play at home.”

“No,” Gerard huffs, “That’s not what I want. I can’t tear you down to build me back up. That’s not how this works.”

Frank rubs at his eyes. This is too much talking before coffee. 

“I want you to play the guitar in front of me. I want to watch you tattoo people, see you draw your flash sheets. I want you to still find joy in things even when I can’t. _Especially_ when I can’t.”

“It’s just not fair,” Frank whispers.

“I know,” Gerard says, stabbing out his cigarette, “But it’s our life now.”

Frank likes the sound of that. Our life.

The coffee maker goes silent and the red light comes on. Frank gets up and pours some in both their mugs. Then he goes to the fridge and grabs Gerard’s creamer, dumping enough in the mug to turn the dark liquid to a creamy tan. He goes to the sugar canister and stirs in two spoons of sugar, before taking it to Gerard.

Frank watches Gerard take a sip, stares at the cinnamon coffee coat his lips.

He leans down to kiss him.

Tastes the cinnamon sugar.

Tastes home. 

Thank you to [stmichale](https://stmichale.tumblr.com/) for creating this beautiful fanart, be sure to check out the rest of their work!

**Author's Note:**

> I really didn't want to leave this verse, and after getting some awesome comments on Grape Soda I thought maybe you guys weren't ready to leave yet either. 
> 
> I'm thinking of a third installment for Mikey and then a small little something to wrap everything up. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and for everyone who left a comment or messaged me on my [tumblr](https://throwupsparkles.tumblr.com/). I was really hesitant on posting Grape Soda in the first place because of the subject matter, and I did get some hate for it. But, the majority of you were very positive and made me feel proud of my work. So thank you, thank you, thank you.


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